


Bittersweet

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-08
Updated: 2005-07-08
Packaged: 2018-05-31 10:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6466750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor wakes up alone. S3 Drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

**Bittersweet**

He woke suddenly, looked around the room. Nobody there. That was not good. He didn’t like being by himself. They didn’t ever leave him by himself. He opened his mouth and gave a tentative soft cry. Just to see what would happen. Something fell; hit the floor with a loud bang that he really didn’t like at all. 

He opened his mouth wider and fully expressed his displeasure. The results were much more satisfying. He was lifted out of the crib and cuddled against a warm chest; felt the beat of a heart through his tiny frame. Not Daddy then. And he didn’t smell like aunties. He loved his aunties. They smelled sugar sweet and they kissed him lots. Auntie Cordy felt softer, but Auntie Fred sang better lullabies. Auntie Cordy really shouldn’t sing lullabies.

Not Uncle Lorne, either, who sang the best lullabies of all. He liked the Broadway one best. And not Uncle Gunn, who lifted him and swung him the highest. He liked flying with Uncle Gunn. No, this was his favourite uncle. 

He nestled closer, pressing his ear to the chest as the man spoke. His voice rumbled quietly, all soft and growly, with all sorts of sounds the others didn’t have in their voices. He loved Uncle Wes’ voice.

He was carried then, over to the desk with all the big books that Uncle Wes liked to play with. There were lots of books open on the desk, and the pens that he liked to try and chew, but Uncle Wes knew that and pushed them out of reach. There was also a bottle of formula, and he realized how hungry he was. He made a few sucking noises, cooed a little bit, then stuffed his fist into his mouth. Uncle Wes got the message quickly, because he was clever, and soon he was sucking contentedly. 

Uncle Wes didn’t stop talking, his voice fuzzy and comforting. He concentrated on Uncle Wes’ lips and tried to understand what he was saying. He recognized his own name and Daddy’s; Uncle Wes said those lots of times. 

He stared into Uncle Wes’ face, put his hand up to grab his glasses, and Uncle Wes smiled sadly. Uncle Wes pulled his glasses off, and rubbed his hand over his eyes. He looked so sad.

He stopped sucking his bottle and tried to smile; his aunties loved it when he did that. Uncle Wes tried to smile back, but he wasn’t much good at it either. He reached up to Uncle Wes’ cheek and gurgled, then brought his fist back down and shoved it in his mouth. 

Connor decided then that he didn’t much like the taste of salt.


End file.
